Sick
by Agent H.E.R.O
Summary: What happens when everyone's favourite priest becomes sick? Quick story


Father Francis Mulcahy felt a sharp pain in his chest, more intense then the discomfort he'd been feeling all day. He tried to get off the bed by pushing off with his arms, but his left arm felt numb. Small beads appeared on his forehead as his breaths came in short sporadic gasps. Unconsciously, he pulled at his heart and realized with sickening dread that he was suffering from a heart attack.

His knees fell to the floor, the breaths becoming more and more erratic. Darkness swaddled the side of his vision, coaxing him to sleep for one final time. With a sickening thud, his head hit the dirt floor inside his tent. His glasses landed near the front door. He thought of the boys that died today, would he be seeing them soon? His eyes fluttered shut, unable to hold on any longer.

Hawkeye and BJ swaggered out of their tent, thoroughly ready to enjoy their slop dinner after the flood in the OR.

"You really haven't found those marbles yet?"

"Sorry Hawk, they must've feel out of my pocket in the operating room onto the floor"

Hawkeye opened the wooden door, slightly chipped on the top, for his friend. Once they got their food, they sat down at their normal table, with Radar, the Colonel, Klinger, and a few others. Both looked at each other, noticing the padre was not at his usual seat.

"I take it you haven't seen the good man either?" Asked the Colonel.

BJ shrugged, "Maybe he's sleeping?"

Hawkeye set his food down with a clatter, "I'll go check on him. I can't eat this slop anyways."

Hawkeye strolled out of the mess tent, kicking up red dust with his black boots. To be honest, he just wanted to get away from everyone. He loved them all dearly but they'd been stuck in the operating room since two am till one pm.

Knocking with the tips of his knuckles, he called out the Father's name.

"Mulcahy? You in there?"

A low groan answered him though, and immediately Hawkeye switched into medical mode. When he walked through the door, he heard a slight crinkle of glass. Lifting up his right untied boot, he saw Mulcahy's glasses, crushed under his weight. His eyes looked up to see Francis laying on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he called to Klinger, who was walking out of the mess tent.

"Klinger! Get my medical bag and come over here! Quickly!"

Klinger ran as fast as he could in his high heels, snatching the medical bag off the wool sheets, and rushing back to Hawkeye.

A gasp escaped through his cracked lips as he saw one of his friends on the floor. Seeing Klinger run from the mess tent, BJ, Radar, and Colonel Potter got up from their wooden bench seats and followed after the clerk.

Hawkeye listened near Mulcahy's mouth for breath for ten seconds. He couldn't hear his breathing though. He sealed his lips over Mulcahy's, giving the man two breaths before checking for a pulse. The pulse was weak and thready, barely even there.

"What's happened?"

"I think he's had a heart attack!" The raven-haired man responded before giving another breath after five seconds.

"BJ and I will lift him, you get the OR ready." Hawkeye said as he administered one last rescue breath.

The Colonel took off, parting the wave of curious on lookers who had gathered by the tent a few moments ago.

"We'll perform an angioplasty."

It had been a full twenty four hours since Mulcahy passed out in his tent and he still hadn't woken up. The nurses and doctors monitored him carefully, checking his pulse and breathing every half hour. The surgery had been routine, but it still scared Hawkeye to see the father's pale face on the operating table, his chest cut open and his slowly beating heart before him. Sometimes Hawkeye felt he held too much power.

The next morning rain clouds rolled in. No new wounded showed up, but everyone still felt tired.

"How's Mulcahy doing?" Asked the Colonel

"He was running a high fever last night, but nurse Kelly and I brought it down to 99 degrees." Answered Hawkeye before sipping his black coffee. He pushed a hand through his greasy jet black hair, frustration and anger coursing through his veins. It was always the sweetest of people who got hurt and Hawk was sick of it. Colonel Potter seemed to be able to read Hawkeye's emotions through the dismal expression on his face.

"He'll be alright, he'll pull through."

The Father reached out before him, into the blackness. He was cold, so very cold, and weak. He called out to Jesus, to God, praying for someone to save him from this endless darkness. Just like that, he could feel himself waking up. He tried to shift positions, but wasn't strong enough. His failed attempt caused him pain and he groaned, the slightest shift aggravating him. He could hear the faintest sound of voices coming closer. Then a hand on his shoulder.

"Father, are you with us?"

Sluggishly, he opened his eyes against the harsh light. Squinting at first, and slowly letting them open wider. It was BJ talking to him, but he could see Hawkeye out of his peripheral vision.

"You gave us quite a scare back there! It seems you had a heart attack. Hawkeye found you in your tent on the floor."

He tried sitting up, but the pain was too intense and BJ gently lowered him back to the bed.

"Take it easy tiger, you need to get some more rest before you can sit up properly."


End file.
